By Sword and Spell
an excerpt

Aidan turned to look at Amalia, and the girl had the sudden feeling that he was looking at her inside as well as out. After several seconds, he nodded. “All right - let’s go.” He unlocked her manacles and motioned her over to stand near Isolde. “Now let’s get going - the guards will be here any moment now.” With that, he made for the door, to be followed immediately afterward by Isolde; gathering up her skirts, Amalia followed them.

The three of them crept stealthily down the dank, narrow corridor, the flickering light of the torches casting everything into sharp relief and sending monstrous shadows lurching along the walls and floor. Just as they reached the end of the corridor, a soldier in the livery of the court of Alhambra spotted them, and started. Before the man could raise the alarm, Aidan had the sword at his side out and swinging in a shining silver arc. The soldier tried his best to parry the blows, but was no match for the other swordsman’s skill. Before he could even cry out, Aidan’s blade turned his throat into a red ruin.

The victory was short-lived, however, for more soldiers were thundering down the corridor, their swords drawn and ready. Aidan let out a curse and seized the fallen soldier’s sword, shoving it at Amalia. “Cover me!”

Her fingers closed involuntarily around the hilt, but she stared at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t know how to use this!”

He gave her an odd sort of smile. “Don’t think - just listen to your body, little one. Let it do what it knows how to do, even if you don’t.” And with that, he was charging at their foes, his sword lashing out in a deadly silver arc. Amalia started to protest again, but one of the soldiers slipped past Aidan and made straight for her and Isolde. Her heart in her mouth, she nearly froze, but then something seemed to take over her body, and she blocked the blade almost instinctively. The force of the blow sent a wave of vibrations up her arms, but to her astonishment, they held up against his blow with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. **What in the name of all the blessed saints?** Her opponent stared at her, his jaw falling open at the sight of the young girl that he had thought until now to be easy prey blocking the swing that could bring down seasoned veterans. “Witch!” he snarled, and pressed the attack.

Rage welled up, hot as lava, inside Amalia at the sound of that word. All of the consternation she had felt at the sound of it pronounced at her trial turned to fury as her body responded with a strength and skill she had not known she possessed until now. “I...am not...a witch!” she snarled, her blows battering him back with the sheer strength behind them. Her sword smashed through his guard and clove deeply into his shoulder. Blood spurting from the cut, he slumped against the wall, his eyes rolling back into his head as shock and loss of blood took their toll.

Ahead of her, Aidan had dispatched his foes with swift, merciless strokes of his own blade. Amalia tried desperately not to look at the mangled heaps of meat and bone that had once been living beings. The sword fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter on the stone floor, and she swallowed back a mouthful of bile. **What did I just do?**